


The Clocktower Legacy

by Scioneeris



Category: Vampire Knight
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bloodplay, Dolls, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Romance, Slow Romance, Woodwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scioneeris/pseuds/Scioneeris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaname Kuran is a pureblooded vampire prince, employed as a talented craftsman with the Clocktower Carpentry Corporation. He can bring his creations to life with his rich, pure, blood. One doll will be a silver-haired hunter. But his talented hands have been idle lately and when his latest work schedule is delayed for lack of materials, Kaname manages to secure some leftover wood for his own personal use. However, a quiet, peaceful existence is never granted to workmen of the Clocktower, when the famous legacy begins to disrupt Kaname's personal life, he will have to act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge : Takuma

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: As you read, take note of the POV hints at the section beginnings, since I can't name the dolls until Kaname does, you'll have to read the title to know who is who. Thanks for reading this long note and I hope you enjoy the story! ^_^
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Vampire Knight Anything, I only lay claim to my original characters, plot bunnies and such. It is Puppetland/Dollworld, adjustments had to be made. ~_^

_Takuma's POV_

Is that my master? My creator? The one who will set me free? It's dark and cold and lonely here. I wish for warmth, light and someone to be worthy of the loyalty I feel within my grain. I wish to live. Everything is so calm and quiet, but I'm so tired of it that now it bores me. I wish for things I cannot have and I am nothing more than a block of wood.

I will never be anything other than a block of wood unless someone should see me, see something within me and dare to move forward and call it out. I hear the voices, sometimes I think I can see the faces and I know there are others coming and going. I see the other blocks disappear. I see them reappear before the warehouse can empty.

Somehow, I know, that I will never be chosen.

Never.

But I long for it still.

* * *

Kaname's POV

"What do you mean the shipment is late?" There was a worried tone in the voice of the shivering young man. Joren towered over the receptionist's desk by at least two feet from the standard height and his blue eyes were swirling pools of emotion as his hands clenched into tight fists. "I specifically placed my order and I…" He stammered, turning away. "This is bad, this is very bad." _Kuran will have my head for something I couldn't even control-!_

"I'm terribly sorry, Sir." The receptionist intoned, her gaze never leaving the flashing computer screen. "But it is out of my hands and there is absolutely nothing here that I can do. Would you like to place a new order?" The phone rang and the answered it.

The young man bowed his head, shuffling a few steps backwards. He didn't bother to tell her that reordering wouldn't fix the current situation. He didn't bother to explain that he was from the Clockwork Carpentry Corporation and that her company's mishandling of this order would cause troubles that were well out of his own hands. He didn't bother to mention that the mishap would doubtless affect the very last person he wanted it to.

Joren sighed again, shoulders slumping as he left the fancy receptionist foyer and walked around the giant warehouse to the receiving area at the back docks. He waited to be noticed and then waved one of the workers over. He handed him the paper slip in his hand, a crisp white business card bearing his name, position and status.

It spoke for him when he did not feel like voicing the words aloud.

The worker in the orange hard-hat had immediately gone red in the face. "Ah, Joren-san, eh-"

"Just Joren is fine." The young man smiled. "Do you have any spare blocks in the warehouse that you might be able to spare? I'm afraid one of our craftsman has accompanied me and-"

The red face grew even redder as the workman sputtered for a minute and then nodded. "We have some old blocks way in the back." He admitted, at last. "And I'm not supposed to let customers into the working area without written consent of-"

"Couldn't you make an exception this time?" The new voice belonged to the young man who now stood behind Joren, one pale, thin hand raking through his thick, chocolate curls, russet red eyes piercing directly through the man before him. "You can make an exception, can't you?" He persisted, moving around Joren to arrest the attention of the red-faced man.

"Kaname-sama!" Joren started forward. "I was coming right back and-" He stopped at a raised hand over Kaname's shoulder. He knew the young man well enough by now to know that he rarely used such little gestures and that if he was using it, then he had best pay attention and listen.

The red face was quickly growing rather pale.

"Kaname?" He licked his lips nervously. "Kaname Kuran?"

The bored burgundy gaze bored even deeper into him. "Do you mind?"

The mismatched trio entered the warehouse, with the orange-hard hat worker leading the way. There were tall, shrink-wrapped pallets of wood blocks, slabs and cubes all neatly stacked, with colored paper sheets tacked to the sides, declaring where the merchandise would be shipped. They wove their way through the maze of shrink-wrapped wooden towers.

At the very back corner, they rounded on a shadowed half-pallet of wooden blocks. The worker sheepishly tugged at his plastic hat. "This is kind of like, the uh, last…I mean," He hastily corrected at Kaname's glower. "It's all we've got left. Sometimes single artists come and pick out a block here or so." He gestured towards the leftover stack of dusty wood. "I-fi you just need a few pieces until the shipment comes in, you can take it from here."

One spark of light flickered through Kaname's dark eyes as he surveyed the rejected specimens. "How much?" He asked, after the silence had stretched beyond longer than was possibly polite.

The worker flushed bright red again. "Ah, er-"

"We can put any necessary charges on the company account, yes?" Joren interjected, smoothly. "Thank you for your…assistance. I'll handle the details, if you could show me to—Kaname-sama?"

The hand waved again and Joren felt a faint flush starting at the base of his neck. He turned away, following the worker. Once the paperwork was completed, he'd find some idle hands to help them load it up. The look of intense concentration he'd seen on the young Kuran's face as the first hint of another long stretch for him. The talented craftsman was moody at his best and a downright angel of darkness at his worst. From the brewing furrow in his forehead, Joren knew that Kaname was slowly shifting into one of his moods again.

It would be best to get the genius out of the old warehouse and into his precious workshop. His hands would then be free and his conscience would be too. Sometimes just being near the pureblooded prince was too much for him.

* * *

In the darkened safety of his workshop, Kaname moved about the workspace, setting things up in the way that he usually did. He straightened his tools, blew away invisible dust from his workspace and reached for the carpenter's apron that hung on the rack beside his designer coat. The drapes were pulled shut and the lights were kept low. One lone spotlight illuminated a sturdy block of wood, seven feet by four, a lovely rectangular specimen awaiting his masterful touch.

"Hello." Kaname breathed, he knotted the heavy work apron behind his back and tugged at the neckline. Moving up to the block of wood, he turned his face to the side, pressing his ear to the surface. He listened, eyes half-lidded for a long moment and then he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to the rough surface. "You are going to be mine." He told the block. "And I am going to call you…Takuma." He brushed gentle fingers against the roughened surface. "You are going to be my first."

* * *

_Takuma's POV_

His words thrilled me to the very fibers of my being. His voice was soft like velvet and dark like the blackness that I knew all too well. But when he spoke to me…when he named me…I wanted to cry with happiness.


	2. First Doll, First

The work was long and tedious.

Kaname took his time.

For the entire first week, he ate, slept and lived in the workshop—a routine he was familiar with, one that brought the faintest sparks of happiness to his life. Work was slow in that Kaname couldn't bear to do anything but take his time. This one he had to be careful with. This one he had to do his best. Of course, he would give his best to everything that came beneath his hand so as long as it was for the right reasons, but this one—this was his first.

He didn't know when exactly he started talking to Takuma, but somehow in the midst of the carving and whittling, he did. The words between him and the lifeless block of wood were exactly that—private words between a creator and his subject.

"I might start sanding tonight." Kaname murmured, checking measurements again with the golden measuring tape that hung around his neck and past his waist. "I think you're almost ready." His fingers ran lightly over the roughened outlines, testing the ridges in the wood. "Yes, I think tonight."

He finished the measuring and then took up a soft bristled brush to clean up the shavings around him. "I should hope you would make yourself useful." He commented. "Very useful. This might tickle." The brush was briskly passed over the entire statue-on-a-pedestal that remained from the once unoriginal block of wood. The result was somewhat easier on the sharp burgundy eyes that stared straight through the wood, it seemed, seeing something else far more different than what was before him.

The sanding began without delay.

Kaname's expert fingers guided the machine in, out and around the rough statue, smoothing the roughened wood into a silky finish. When he was through, the result was a simply stunning wooden figure in the shape of a young man. There were no details yet, just the necessary arms, legs, torso and head.

"Tomorrow." Kaname promised, running his fingers lightly over the formed head. He could already see the gentle eyes, curling hair and sloped nose that would make up the vision dubbed 'Takuma' in his mind. A smile nearly slipped to the forefront, but he pushed it away and undid the heavy work apron. There was an annoying presence he could sense just outside in the hallway. He'd been ignoring it for quite some time now, but there was a different note of worry attached to it this time.

It seemed he would have to make an actual appearance to drive it away.

For the first time in nearly two and a half-weeks, he left the workshop.

* * *

_TAKUMA'S POV_

He was leaving. He promised that he'd come back to me tomorrow, but the moment I saw his slender shoulders pass through the privacy curtain, a sense of loneliness and dread settled into the very grain of my wood. I could see him clearer now. It had been both painful and exhilarating to be under the weight of his talented hands.

A strange kind of torture.

A sweetly agonizing torture as the lovely Kaname had ripped away the old, useless parts of me until he'd reached my very core. Then, he'd begun to gentle, the touch of his hands changing along with the tools as he coaxed me to life from the gray matter around me. I was so relieved when he started talking.

I could listen to his voice for nearly forever. It made being trapped and silent within this wood more bearable than I thought possible. He was special. He was definitely special and he had chosen me. I could not wait to see him—for real.

* * *

_KANAME'S POV_

Kaname stepped outside the workshop feeling a faint twinge in his chest as he turned the lock and then stopped to fish out the keys from his pants pocket and secure the extra locks. Once done, he turned, hands in his pockets, head bowed, a scowl beginning to form on his pale aristocratic features. "Joren?" The name was half-growled out. "I know you're prowling around here, show yourself!"

The young secretary appeared almost at once, a strawberry tinged flush had crept up above the white-collared shirt that was tightly buttoned all the way up his neck. "Kaname-sama." He gave the very slightest of bows as status required.

"Don't 'Kaname-sama' me." Kaname glared at him. "Just because you can't see me doesn't mean you are any less irritating than you really are. What is it that couldn't wait another-"

"Asato Ichijo has come to see you." The words were blurted out in such a hurried fashion that the pink flush grew more pronounced, lending credence to the embarrassed expression that stole over the young man's face. He looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with the russet-eyed pureblood.

"And you tried to tell me this…five times?" Kaname scoffed. "Five times I endured your artless pacing, fear-drenched fluke of courage and-"

"Kaname-sama?" A tall, thin woman stood at an open door several yards down the hallway. Her upper torso was visible and nothing more, save the clipboard in hand. "Asato Ichijo to see you, Joren, make your useless self useful, hm?" With a slight jerk of her head, the door slammed as she disappeared from view.

Kaname's glare softened to a deliberate frown. "Why is he here?"

"Ah, well, uh-"

"Walk and talk!" Kaname brushed past him, not caring to temper the darkened aura beginning to settle around him.

"It seems he has heard you are creating an original."

"Really?"

Joren swallowed. "H-he wishes to offer his…name as a sponsor."

"His name? The Ichijo empire?" Kaname gave a harsh laugh. "Of course he would offer."

"He's waiting in the third conference room."

"And?"

"Kaname-sama?"

"He's waiting in the third conference room and what?" They had reached the door and Kaname stood aside, allowing the secretary to hold it open for him. "Is it the CEO or his pet dog?" He smirked. "Perhaps it's both." Stepping through the doorway, Kaname paused and turned back. He seemed as if he were about to say something, then thought better of it and merely tugged at his shirt collar before turning back and continuing down the gloomy hallway.

Joren stood holding the door until the famed craftsman was out of sight. For a moment longer, he held the door open until his hand trembled and he released it. Subconsciously, one hand raised up and he tugged faintly at the crisp shirt collar then turned and retreated down the hallway. If he was lucky, there would be no more necessary work for him today—he'd rather be useless than useful, there was simply something about being useful that didn't seem to bode well.


	3. First Doll, Blood Sponsor

The conference room was tastefully lit with a soft amber glow from the overhead lights. The white lights had been switched off and from the two bottles of blood wine on the oval conference table, Kaname knew the daily meeting had already begun. It wouldn't be the first time he'd arrived late to something like this.

Half of the reason would be Joren's fault and the other half would be someone else's as far as Kaname was concerned. He simply couldn't be bothered in the midst of all of what was going on to take the time to deal with someone like Asato Ichijo.

The elderly vampire oozed of things unpleasant, powerful and dangerous all in the same breath. Kaname had found little reason to keep up appearances after his parent's deaths several years ago. Asato Ichijo had taken him in as an unofficial sponsor, expecting his attempt at artificial kindness to earn him some measure of something in the young pureblood's eyes.

As far as Kaname cared to see it, the old man was foolish, selfish and nightmarish. He was also a chief benefactor as far as Clocktower funding was concerned. He'd claimed it had only been because he was worried that the tower might take advantage of a young pureblood when no one was watching.

Kaname had secretly purchased the second half of the company and done his best to be sure that it could not be traced back to him. He had his father's business sense to thank for that and his mother's intuition where the elder Ichijo was concerned. Currently, both had served him well in their absence due to death.

Asato never came to see him when things were good.

Something must've been wrong.

The tinted glass doors slid open and Kaname stepped inside.

Chairman (and CEO) Kaien Cross turned to see him at once, his face lighting up several watts brighter. "Ah, Kaname, I'm glad you could make it!"

Kaname smiled for him, as was expected, his dark eyes fixed on the older vampire standing on the opposite end of the room. They locked gazes for one silent moment, until the Chairman's smile literally interrupted the moment. "Chairman, Asato." He acknowledged, taking a seat to the right of the head of the table. "I was informed of a sponsorship proposal?"

"There is no need for such formalities, Kaname." Asato smiled, charmingly. "We've known each other quite well now. Why, I just heard that you had finally decided to start your own collection and naturally, I couldn't waste a moment in coming over to verify that at once."

"Of course." Kaname said, smoothly.

"I dropped everything and came straight here." A faint gleam shone in Asato's eyes. "Surely you didn't mean to begin an original without a sponsor or the council's permission?"

"It is hardly what you are making it out to be." Kaname's gaze flickered to the empty glasses on the table, then the half-empty bottle of wine just out of his reach, ending the visual circle with the very slightest of pouts in the Chairman's direction.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. "Ohh, Kaname-kun." The endearment slipped out, drawing a profuse blush. "Ah, Kaname-sama, I mean-" the nervous man hurriedly poured a full, swirling glass of the rich, dark wine and set it before the princely figure. "I-Ichijo has a point. I hadn't realized that you were starting on originals, you didn't say a word!" He accused. "That's not part of company policy. You're supposed to tell me when you feel like doing these sorts of things or it can cause all kinds of trouble! You're lucky I could find such a willing sponsor in such a short time."

"A willing sponsor?" Kaname perked a brow, sliding one slender, pale hand forward, cradling the glass in the palm of his hand. Wickedly dark eyes drilled straight into the smirking ones across the conference table. "Then I am correct in assuming you wish to be a blood sponsor as well?"

Both men gave a start, but Asato recovered quickly, even if his pale face did betray him by paling several shades lighter. "Of course, anything you need." But the hitch in his voice had been his loss.

"I need your blood." Kaname deadpanned. "Yours, not some poor unfortunate soul. This is my first doll as you have noted and only strong blood will do."

"Ah, Kaname….Kaname-sama." Kaien shifted uncomfortably. "We will be grateful for whatever concessions that Mr. Ichijo is willing to give us at this time and-"

"It's quite all right, Cross." Asato's smile was strained and it didn't touch the dark eyes that seemed to be saying more than his mouth possibly ever could have. He'd dug his own well here. "Well played, Kaname." He allowed. "I shall stop tomorrow and you can have-"

"Now is fine." There was no way Kaname would give him time to weaken the blood in his body or otherwise taint it. He wanted it now-where the proof of its strength and clarity could be trusted completely.

"Kaname-!" Kaien protested, looking frantically from one vampire to the next. He was human enough to know that what was happening in the conference room right then was way over his head for common comprehension. He'd have to ask someone about it later. His dusty hunter senses protested as he tried to settle the feeling of discomfort creeping through him. Kaname had come in with the kind of wounded air that literally made people want to flock to him, giving presents and promises of all kinds—no matter the price. The aura hovering around him at the moment was vaguely seductive, charming almost as the devious young pureblood made his request. Kaien knew if those russet eyes were turned to him he had no hope of refusing. The ponytailed man swallowed hard.

Asato had visited in a half-fit and temper of sorts, demanding to see Kaname at once until he'd learned that the precious pureblood prince had locked himself in his workshop for nearly a month—well, a half month at least—he'd then taken care to add daily, morning meetings to his schedule, ending with a plea for the Chairman to force the door and drag the rebellious youth out. Of course, such realities and such fantasies were worlds apart and right now, the reality was staring him down with equal, if not challenge, in the steady dark eyes. Eyes that promised all sorts of things that would never be said aloud. The older vampire swallowed. He'd walked right into this one and the exit was now out of reach. He would have to see this through or feign weakness-and that, he would never do. "Now it is, then."

As if he'd planned it, Kaname calmly reached inside his jacket and drew out a small, peach-colored velvet bundle. He set it on the glossy conference table and unrolled it with the practiced ease that showed he'd done this before.

"No lovely assistants?" Asato watched as he straightened a selection of empty vials and needles. This was progressing much faster than he had expected.

Kaname's lovely head of chocolate hair shook ever so slightly, to answer the question in the negative. The faintest trace of lightness was visible in his dark eyes as he locked gazes once more, this time, a command was clearly visible in them. He wasn't going to move, the other man would have to come forward.

If the Chairman wasn't in the room, Asato never would have turned away from the award cabinet display embedded in the wall and approached the conference table with a dignified air of grace that spoke volumes of the importance of the act about to take place.

"Ah…Kaname,….Ichijo….Kaname!" The flustered Chairman tried and failed to stop the drama that played out before him. He resolved to speak privately to Kaname later.

Asato smiled tightly, the expression never wavering as Kaname inserted the needle in his arm. He wouldn't give in and neither would Kaname. _Curse you, Kuran…_


End file.
